Katherine

Katherine in the Back Field at my House (Kate Remembering Ingrid)

"Katherine in the Back Field at my House (Kate Remembering Ingrid)"

If I found myself living on a different continent, you asked me once, with no hope of getting home, which snapshots of which settings would my mind hold onto?

I’d remember the places I had shared with friends or lovers, I said, or maybe places from my childhood. No, you said, a person could spend all day cataloging this life, carefully selecting the pictures that seemed meaningful, but memory was held captive by things we didn’t understand: Something caused us to hold onto these two ancient oaks in this quiet hayfield, you told me, as opposed to two other oaks just like them a mile or two back.

I think a lot about your last days. About what must have been going through your head. Did the inventory of your images end up making sense to you? Did you finally understand why those oaks were the important ones?